


louder than bombs (i break)

by millenniumboy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenniumboy/pseuds/millenniumboy
Summary: Chenle’s part in this strange little agreement they’ve worked out between themselves essentially boils down to one thing: helping Jeno crawl out of whatever dark, panic filled abyss his mind has led him down, and to do it slowly and carefully so that he doesn’t accidentally damage Jeno in the process.That’s all. Simple, isn’t it?
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 14
Kudos: 175





	louder than bombs (i break)

It’s not a good stage. 

They have those sometimes, as much as Chenle hates to admit it. Not every performance is going to be perfect from start to finish no matter how many times they rehearse, no matter how many bruises they collect, no matter how much they dance and dance until their feet are covered in blisters and they can hear the music in their ears constantly and see the choreography behind closed eyes when they lay down to sleep. There will always be stages where someone messes up, where someone is injured, where someone is _halfway_ around the world in another unit. There will always be mistakes. 

The clincher is not letting those mistakes affect you. 

And sometimes it works because damn, they’ve been doing this a _while_ now. All of them understand how critical it is to keep moving, to keep dancing, to not let a flicker of stress show on your face, because that would shatter the illusion, wouldn’t it? Would make them seem like they’re less than the perfect automatons SM churns out every two years. 

But Chenle knows that this will not be one of those days where the errors run off their backs like hot water sluicing down sore muscles after a shower - a painful reminder but fleeting. No, this day, this stage, these _mistakes_ \- they are going to leave a mark. 

Jisung slips. It’s raining and the stage is slick with water and Jeno breaks formation to lunge and catch him before he slams his head against the massive speaker at the edge of the stage. 

First mistake. 

Though it can hardly be constituted as one because how the fuck are they supposed to control the weather and the effect it has on the absurdly slick shoes the stylists insisted on putting them in? But it’s enough to distress all of them - a slippery stage is dangerous, a slippery stage with one fall already is even more so because it makes them panic. Even if they try not to. Despite the pouring rain, Chenle can see Jeno’s face turn pale in shock and anger. It hardly lasts a beat; Jeno releases Jisung and in the next beat they’re all moving as one, a single organism to create a perfect dance. 

The song ends and they quickly reshuffle in the dark to start their next song. Chenle is behind Jeno and Renjun and can see the goosebumps rising on Jeno’s skin, cold where the icy rainwater is hitting his uncovered arms. Renjun is shivering. They’re all soaked to the bone, but none of them will stop performing. It’s not like they have much of a choice anyway. 

The second mistake is when Jeno misses a step, takes one to the left instead of the right and he and Jaemin crash into each other, solidly built shoulders slamming hard enough that Chenle can hear the muffled groan that slips out into the mic, into their in-ears. Thankfully, it’s not loud enough to be heard over the song. Jaemin rights himself instantly, moving back into the dance but Chenle just manages to see Jeno freeze for half a second, standing stock still, for a moment, half of that even - just long enough to be noticeable, _just_ long enough to be a problem - before he’s moving again, a grimace unsuited for the stage painted all over his face. 

The performance comes to a shaky end, all of them skidding to a stop and Jeno, in his long boots, struggles to catch traction and he collapses to the ground just as the stage goes dark, catching himself on his hands, knees skidding in a painful thud on the floor.

Third mistake. 

That’s all it takes. 

Jeno breaks and Chenle notices. 

They stand there for a second, waiting for the last notes of the song to ring out, interspersed with the cheers from the crowd and then they’re all moving towards Jeno. Jaemin gets there first, Donghyuck next and together they haul Jeno up, carting him off the stage. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jeno is saying tightly when Chenle jogs backstage, Renjun close behind him. “I just slipped.” 

Jaemin purses his lips but he lets Jeno go, stepping back. They’re all watching him, Chenle realises, all of them wary and careful. Jeno doesn’t really get angry, not in the way Donghyuck or Renjun do. He doesn’t explode with anger and frustration, nor does he keep it tightly hidden down like Jaemin. He just… _doesn’t_. He cries in frustration and walks away from a fight, but he doesn’t ever get angry. But this… _This_ is a different reaction: Jeno’s clenching his fists, opening them and clenching them again, his chest heaving with every word, as if breathing is a struggle. He looks like a mad dog, feral, about to snap apart and none of them move toward him, too afraid of getting their hands bitten off. 

No one realises what’s happening and that’s why they’re all so cautious. No one except Chenle. 

“Hyung,” he pipes up, startling the silence away. “Jeno hyung, you’re wet and dirty from the stage. You should get cleaned up.”

Jeno glances up at him through a drooping wet fringe, eyes dark, and Chenle tips his head in the direction of the bathrooms.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hyung,” he says, still maintaining that high, careful tone, the one that says _I’m Chenle of NCT Dream_ , the stage voice. The cover. “Come on.”

“Yes, go Jeno-yah,” their manager says quickly. “We’ll leave soon, so be quick about it.” Jeno turns on his heel and stalks away and Chenle makes to follow, meeting eyes with his manager before he does so. Their manager looks grateful and Chenle justs throws him a bright smile before following Jeno. 

He catches up with him just as they turn the corner but it’s not far away enough that they don’t hear their manager say in a low tone, “Well that was a complete and utter _shitshow_.”

Jeno tenses visibly, his shoulders hunching and before he can even think to react - and Chenle knows he will because he _knows_ Jeno - Chenle slams a hand around the back of Jeno’s neck and pushes him forward, keeping him moving down the hallway, moving away from the others. 

“Keep walking,” he orders Jeno in a low voice, the one that no one hears except for Jeno, the one that says _listen to me._

Jeno shudders, but he doesn’t disobey.

Bathrooms are a gross place usually and there’s no way Chenle’s going to do what he’s about to in _there_ , especially when there’s a higher chance of getting caught. He nudges open a random storage door in the middle of the hallway and is relieved to find it empty and with a lightbulb on, hanging from the center of the room. 

“Get in,” he tells Jeno. “Quickly, before someone sees.”

Jeno slips in and Chenle quickly follows him, shutting the door behind them and shoving a mop under the handle before turning back to Jeno. He’s still shaking, though marginally less than before but it’s not enough for Chenle, not enough to stop. 

They both have an agreement after all. 

“Yes or no?” He asks, stepping closer. There’s no room for misinterpretation in his question. 

Jeno sucks in a ragged breath as he nods. 

“I need a verbal answer, hyung,” Chenle says, softer. “Yes or no?”

A desperate gasp. “Yes, please, Chenle-” the words stutter out of his mouth and vanish into nothing when Chenle’s hand slides up his chest, up that stupid v-necked vest, the one that leaves little to the imagination, and slips under the silky tie looped around Jeno’s neck. It’s come loose during performing and Chenle easily unties it, sliding it off Jeno’s neck, trailing the end over his skin, lingering long enough for Jeno to close his eyes and shudder. There’s water clinging to his lashes and he’s still covered in goosebumps. 

Chenle shoves the tie into his pocket before grasping Jeno by the shoulders and turning him against the wall so he has something to brace against. They’d learned the hard way that Jeno lost all his balance when they did this. That it was best for him to be sitting or lying down, but for now, they had to work with what they had.

“Take a breath,” Chenle orders, not taking his eyes off Jeno’s face. “And let it out. Slowly.”

Jeno does as he’s told, the air slowly escaping him and on the last few seconds, right before his chest lifts to take another breath, Chenle’s hand closes around his neck. 

It had been beyond scary for both of them, the first time they’d attempted this. Chenle was too scared of hurting Jeno and Jeno too afraid of losing control entirely. It had been terrible, Jeno had collapsed on the bed, shaking and wild eyed and it had taken Chenle nearly an hour to calm him down, while trying not to touch him at the same time. As their manager had stated, a complete and utter shitshow. 

But as the months have passed, they’ve gotten better at this. Chenle would like to take credit for being a quick learner but the fact of the matter was just that Jeno needed it so much that there was no other choice - that Chenle _had_ to step up or watch Jeno fall apart in front of him. 

Chenle’s done his research though, and knows better now, he knows exactly what it takes to make Jeno fall into that perfect headspace, to help him calm down. He knows exactly where to press so that he doesn’t asphyxiate Jeno, knows exactly how long to hold, knows exactly what to say. 

Jeno stares at him with wide eyes and Chenle doesn’t look away as he presses his fingers tighter, his other hand coming up brace against Jeno’s torso, holding him there, grounding him. 

“It’s okay,” Chenle says quietly and Jeno flinches at the sound shattering the carefully tense quiet that had built up around them. “It’s okay, Jeno.”

He doesn’t use honorifics when he does this, not out of disrespect or some weird power trip. It’s just simply not _needed_. Jeno needs to be taken out of his head, needs to be taken care of, to be shown that it’s _okay_ to not be in control and Chenle’s found that calling him ‘hyung’ detracts from that core mission.

Jeno sucks in a ragged breath and tips his head against the wall, shaking minutely. “I can’t-” he starts before a tiny noise escapes him. His hands are trembling hard and nails are digging into the smooth concrete of the wall, turning them jagged and painful. Chenle watches him for a second before he removes his hand slowly and deliberately from Jeno’s stomach, broadcasting each one of his actions loud enough so that Jeno doesn’t panic, before tapping his left hand. 

“Hands above your head,” he tells Jeno. “Palms facing outward, don’t curl them into fists.”

It takes a minute for Jeno to realise what he’s saying and then another minute or so for him to obey. But that’s okay, Chenle can wait. This isn’t about rushing Jeno - though they _are_ running out of time very quickly - and this isn’t about punishing him if he doesn’t move fast enough. 

Chenle’s part in this strange little agreement they’ve worked out between themselves essentially boils down to one thing: helping Jeno crawl out of whatever dark, panic filled abyss his mind has led him down, and to do it slowly and carefully so that he doesn’t accidentally damage Jeno in the process. 

That’s all. Simple, isn’t it?

The whole time, Chenle hasn’t removed his hand from Jeno’s neck. He’s been carefully pressing and releasing, almost on autopilot at this point because, for better or worse, it’s become something like second nature to do this for Jeno. To take control like this. 

Sometimes if Chenle examines it too closely, he starts to get scared at himself. Because what kind of normal person _likes_ doing this? What kind of person regularly chokes their band mate in dark closets and the secrecy of their bedroom, to help them with gut roiling anxiety and stress that threatens to incapacitate them? What kind of person gets a thrill out of seeing another’s eyes grow hazy and feel their body grow lax against them? To feel the complete control they have over this delicate situation?

That’s why Chenle doesn’t think about it too much - he’s pretty sure he won’t like what he sees. 

After a few more minutes of Chenle slowly smoothing his hand in repetitive circles against Jeno’s chest, encouraging him to calm down, to breathe slower, Jeno finally relaxes. It’s not a sudden thing - he doesn’t snap back to himself from one second to the next but his eyes glaze over and his chest stops heaving and he, _thankfully_ , starts to come back from whatever dark box his mind had tunneled into. 

Chenle watches him for a little bit longer before he loosens his fingers bit by bit, until he can see, under the loose ring of his fingers, the blood rush back under the skin, pale yellow flushing with bright pink and red. 

“I’m going to let go now, okay?” Chenle says quietly. “When I do, you may drop your hands. Keep breathing slowly.”

He waits until Jeno utters a whispered affirmation, before fully uncurling his fingers and dropping his arm back to his side. Blood instantly rushes back down to his hand, and his arm starts aching immediately, a dull pounding ache resounding through his hand and up to his shoulder from the effort of being tensed and kept up for so long. Jeno’s hands shake as he lowers them to his side and he looks up at Chenle with big, hazy eyes, and Chenle just has enough time to step forward, before Jeno sags against him. His forehead thuds against Chenle’s collarbone and Chenle loosely encircles his arm around Jeno’s waist, holding him there without clutching too tight. His other hand slides up into Jeno’s damp hair. 

“You did good,” Chenle whispers, his voice flipping back from the steadily cool tone he’d used the whole time. “Jeno, you did so good.”

“Messed up,” Jeno murmurs, around a wet pant, the humid air hitting Chenle’s skin in a puff. “Three times.”

His hand clenches onto the side of Chenle’s jacket and Chenle waits to see if he’ll start panicking again, but Jeno remains steady, his breathing maintaining the same pace. 

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Chenle starts but Jeno shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Not me.”

“ _Even_ you,” Chenle disagrees. This part is the hardest for him, if he’s being honest. Holding Jeno back, choking him, controlling him, those are all relatively simple - for whatever constitutes as _simple_ in this matter. But this here is the part Chenle is always the most scared of. One wrong word, one misstep, and they’re back at the beginning all over again. Or he risks breaking Jeno completely and Chenle is terrified of that possibility. He pets Jeno’s hair, scratching soothingly over his scalp before speaking again. “You are allowed to make mistakes, Jeno. You’re allowed to have a bad day, and that’s all this was: a bad day.”

Jeno swallows, loud enough to be audible, but he doesn’t pull away, and he doesn’t refute Chenle’s words, but time and experience have taught Chenle that that doesn’t mean he’s ready to be let go. Not quite yet. 

“You always do so well,” Chenle murmurs. “The best leader we could have.” Jeno makes a noise, probably to disagree but Chenle keeps talking. “No, you are. And you did so good for me today…” He continues just like, a low stream of comfort interspersed with praise spilling out unbidden from his mouth and feels, bit by bit, Jeno coming back to him, coming back to himself. 

Finally, after what feels like hours but Chenle knows realistically is probably just a few minutes, Jeno takes a deep breath and picks his head up, straightening. 

His eyes are clear now, less wild and desperate, and Chenle smooths his bangs away from his face before asking, “Are you okay, now?”

Jeno stares at him for a few seconds, unblinking, before he speaks. “Yeah,” he says in a low voice. “Thank you, Chenle.”

Chenle hums, but doesn’t move away. Jeno’s neck is reddening, the imprints of Chenle’s fingers starting to form a tattoo that will make it very clear to anyone with eyes what happened. He’s going to need lotion on it soon. 

“Do you need me to stay over?”

Jeno pauses. “I don’t want to impo-”

“Do you want me, yes or no?” Chenle asks steadily. 

Jeno sighs. “Yes.” A beat. “I want you.”

“Okay,” Chenle nods and keeps his hand in Jeno’s hair. While stiff from hairspray and still damp, it’s still strangely nice to card to his fingers through and Jeno hasn’t let go of him yet. 

And Chenle won’t move until he does. 

“I’ll be there.”

No one questions why Jeno still looks so bedraggled and why his pants are still dirty from the stage when they stumble back to the dressing room. All the others have vanished - presumably to the car and Chenle had tied Jeno’s silk tie loosely back around his neck so that the redness couldn’t be seen. 

They quickly change back into their clothes before being ushered out to the van. 

“Uh, hyung?” Chenle says, before they get on. “I’m going to go to the dorms tonight.”

“Okay,” their manager says before he holds Chenle back. “Thank you, by the way, for helping Jeno out today.”

Chenle smiles up at him. “Of course, hyung,” he says brightly. “It wasn’t even that hard.” And he bounds away to the van, the smile slipping off his face as he slides into the back seat, next to Jeno. The seats are separated but Chenle stretches out his hand and loosely intertwines their fingers together. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Jeno tells him. 

Chenle slides a glance sideways at him. “Hyung,” he says and the title makes Jeno blink. “Stop worrying, I’m doing this because I want to.”

Jeno slumps into his chair. “Okay,” he agrees.

Jeno’s waiting on the bed when Chenle gets out of the shower. His big eyes follow Chenle around the room as he grabs the lotion before sitting down next to Jeno. 

“Tilt your head back,” Chenle murmurs and Jeno obeys, the arch of his neck standing out against his pale skin as he tips his head back for Chenle. 

Chenle smoothes the lotion on his neck, tentatively, wincing when Jeno flinches at his cold touch. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jeno murmurs. His throat bobs and Chenle swallows involuntarily. His fingerprints are starting to redden and darken and tomorrow morning they’ll stand out against the ivory. A reminder. 

He finishes up applying the lotion quickly, before ushering Jeno to bed. 

“Stay with me,” Jeno says and it’s not a question. 

Chenle considers him before flicking off the light and sliding under the covers. Jeno always runs absurdly hot, like a space heater and today is no different. 

“Thank you for today,” Jeno says quietly. He hasn’t looked away from Chenle the whole time. 

“Anytime, hyung,” Chenle whispers. His hand finds Jeno’s in the dark and squeezes. “I’m here for you.”


End file.
